Fifth Journey Day 19: Horizon Withheld
Date: May 27, 2025
Location: Kangerlussuaq, Greenland
I spent most of the day walking north, away from the airstrip and towards the edge of the ice sheet. The path wasn't marked, just gravel that was pale and gritty. There were also some puddles left over from the melting snow. They looked like mirrors, but they weren't finished yet. The land seemed to fold slightly upward in the distance, drawing the eye toward a horizon that never quite revealed itself.
I walked slowly. The only sound I heard was the sound of my boots hitting the gravel. There are no trees, buildings, or birds. The only sounds that reach my ears are the wind and the faint sound of something thawing. At one point, I stopped and touched a piece of snow that hadn't melted yet. Its surface was rough and pitted like coral. I was surprised by how solid it felt, but it quickly became warm in my hand.
There's a loneliness to this place that isn't sad. It's the kind of solitude that makes you think. Focusing on the most important things. You look around and realize that this is the moment you've been waiting for. Sky. Stone. Cold.
On the way back, I sat on a flat rock and felt the sun on my face. The warmth was cautious, but not unkind. I thought about what it means to approach something without the intention of arriving. Maybe that was the day's lesson—trying to reach the ice but not quite managing it. Allow the absence to be part of the experience.
Later, I rinsed the dust from my hands in a shallow pool near the runway. It was clear and unmoving. I didn't see my reflection, but I felt like I was a part of it.
Nothing too exciting happened. But the quiet stayed the same.
